Fighting This Battle Alone
by SolidSnake'sLover
Summary: Sirius in Azkaban. Technically a songfic, but there's way more story than song. Very dark, especially if you know this song


A/N: Technically this is a songfic, but the whole thing doesn't center around the song, so I hope you don't judge it by that label. If you do, that's your loss (I hope, haha). This is really dark, especially if you know the song I used.

Disclaimer: JKR owns the lovely characters and I bow to her. Alice in Chains owns the song and is the inspiration for the title. To AIC, I tip my hat.

* * *

**Fighting This Battle Alone**

Lying here, never sure of sanity, but positive that he didn't deserve to live. He didn't even know where he was anymore. Not that he ever really did; how many people could say they knew the location of Azkaban?

He had been suffocating for…well, who really knew how long? It was impossible to estimate the amount of time that he had inhabited hell, but it didn't matter. Why continue eating? There's no way out, there never will be, and surely there was some other use for the wasted food.

Suffocating was the word for it. Trapped in this box for eternity, or, eternity as he would ever know it. And whenever the beasts abandoned their restless pacing outside the bars and actually entered the box, he was certain that the room shrank impossibly smaller. Feverish sweating, trembling, whimpering; he hadn't always been like this, had he? Hadn't he once been brave?

Now (although it was always 'now' to him), they stole the air from his lungs. If their presence didn't cause such chill, his forehead would be scorching. He began hyperventilating once they were close enough to be the only things he could see. He begged unconsciousness to seize him, to free him even if with nightmares. He'd always been a claustrophobe anyway.

Not two feet away from him, and if they could, they'd be laughing at him. _Not so tough anymore, eh?_ He knew they'd jeer if they had voices. _Pathetic. You coward._ And he agreed. But he'd always been a coward. He'd always shamed everyone with whom he associated, he'd always been a worthless, despicable person. Just like his horrid mum had always taught him. She'd been right all along…god.

He vaguely wondered how he knew he'd shamed people. The only people he could recall being disappointed in him were his mother and father, no one else. But he knew there must be another reason for him to be so terrible of a person, although he was unable to explain why. He had known other people, had been friends with them, had disappointed them, but his memory had been sapped.

He struggled in vain to remember a certain boy. He knew he was friends with some boy, but who was it? He wished he could feel emotions that he was sure he must have had, and with which that boy played an enormous role.

Falling backwards into as much reality as he could achieve, he felt their presence growing stronger. They were right in front of him, and they would never, ever go away, despite his begging. Begging was something he wouldn't have done in his past which he, in all honesty, could have completely imagined.

They were right in his face and he could smell the horrid breath. Between hiccups for breath, he heaved dry sobs-he cried so much these days-and pressed himself against the wall, desperate for distance. He curled himself into the fetal position, gripping his hair so that it hurt.

"Please." Why did he say it? It was rare that he spoke, and he also knew that they would never back away from him. They would never leave him alone. They didn't give a damn that he was innocent, rather, that fact only thrilled them more. But he didn't know what else to do.

One of the beasts reached its hand forward. He watched it fearfully, praying for it not to do what it was about to do. He sensed a scream rising in his dry throat, and bit on his wrist as its hand made contact with his face. He managed to stifle a full blown scream, but still whimpered, and had to bite down on his wrist with such force that it bled.

His entire body trembled at the icy touch, although he faintly remembered that nothing used to delight him more than being held. "Please…stop…" he moaned, flinching as it caressed his unhealthily thin face.

_Poor boy_. He wasn't sure if it had said the words, projected them into his head, or if he had imagined it. _Please don't cry. It makes mummy sad when you do that. You know I didn't mean to hurt you, right?_

He shivered. _They_ always knew what to say to make his day turn from miserably hopeless and depressing, also known as the happiest he'd ever be for the rest of his life in here, to suicidal. Unbidden, the memory played in front of his eyes:

"There, come on now, Sirius, mummy had to teach you a lesson," she cooed. Her four year old son blinked up at his mother. He was confused by the rapid change in his mother from angry to loving. He was also clueless as to what wrong he had done.

Just before he had started crying, she, he, and his two year old brother, Regulus, had been in the backyard. She was reading _Pure and Noble Pride_, by Arcanus Mentes, to the boys, neither of whom were interested. When she glanced up from the book, Regulus was observing a caterpillar crawl up his chubby arm. Sirius was nowhere to be seen.

"Sirius?" Walburga Black called out. "_Insignio Sirius!_" she said to her wand. Immediately a red beam of light, visible only to her, rose into the air from the neighbors' yard. She cursed under her breath and cast a Full Body Binding Charm on Regulus. "Stay put," she muttered unnecessarily to him.

The witch charged to the neighboring yard. The six foot magically enforced hedges leaped out of her way, revealing the child holding hands with an unfamiliar woman. "Sirius Black, you are in so much trouble!" Walburga warned.

"Oh, hello," the woman smiled politely. "I was wondering where he'd come from. I've never seen you around here before. Did you just move in? I know of a few book clubs you can join to feel more welcomed."

Walburga ignored this. "How dare you, Sirius! Have you no family pride?"

The woman appeared slightly uncomfortable. She said, "He really hasn't caused any harm, ma'am, he's perfectly welcome to come into my yard whenever he wants to. And really, family pride? He's a child, he won't understand-"

"I don't _need_ parenting help from a filthy Muggle," Walburga sneered, striding towards her son. "Give him back to me!" And before the woman could respond, the Mistress Black had disappeared back behind the hedges.

Deprived of a victim, she turned to her son. "How _dare_ you associate with worthless scum? Your noble blood is above that, and don't you forget it!" She slapped him hard across the face.

Seeing Sirius cry jogged her to her senses. _He'll be stubborn, I can tell that now. This one won't be intimidated by pain. And look at that. He's _already_ gotten over being slapped. Hitting him alone will not work. Now pain combined with love may be an idea…_

He recalled the way she'd pet his face, just like the beast was doing now. He gave an involuntary shudder at the irony. _There, there, Sirius_, the soulless being said. Or perhaps it said nothing at all and he was merely imagining everything, maybe he had finally gone insane. _Don't be afraid. We can be your friends. Confide in us. We promise we won't tell anyone._

"Please leave…" Sirius croaked. "Leave me alone…" A tear slid down his face and onto the beast's cold hand. It withdrew its arm, tantalized by his pain.

_Don't think about them, Sirius._ How did it know that he was trying to remember his friends? _You shouldn't think about things that make you miserable._

Who were those people? He had friends, he was sure of it. He also had a dragging feeling of guilt whenever he tried to see them in his mind. Guilt that told him he deserved every bit of this life long punishment. Guilt that made him ask himself how he dared to pity himself when he was an insignificant slug compared to them. He should be busy thinking of them instead.

It leaned in again, this time to his side. He could feel its cold breath on his ear. _Dead._

_He's dead._

Sirius' eyes widened. "No!" he gasped. He didn't have time to think before the memory shot to his mind, replaying the worst night of his life.

* * *

…A face perfectly white, eyes staring ahead, seeing nothing. A body stiff and unmoving, still clutching a wand. Wild hair blowing in the calm breeze contrasts the horrifying gaze. Holding the body to his heart, a gentle kiss on the top of the head and Sirius can no longer contain his tears. Screaming at the top of his lungs for his best friend…

* * *

He remembers. He resurfaces from his flashback and screams, "JAMES!" He hugs himself tightly and sobs, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His voice breaks at the end. In his state, he doesn't notice that the dementors have left, called away to greet a new prisoner. "Never forget…" he mutters, "…never forget James and Lily…"

He either hears or imagines he hears a voice singing into the night. Bewildered, he strains his ears to catch the words:

_We chase misprinted lies  
We face the path of time  
And yet I fight  
And yet I fight  
This battle all alone  
No one to cry to  
No place to call home _

My gift of self is raped  
My privacy is raked  
And yet I find  
And yet I find  
Repeating in my head  
If I can't be my own  
I'd feel better dead

He's heard these words, he knows, and he thinks, "Moony. _Moony._" His friends. His real friends.

He catches sight of his wrist, still trickling droplets of blood. "James. Remus. I love you. I'll never forget you. And I'm sorry."

With his blood, he writes on the wall:

_Mischief Managed.

* * *

Arcanus Mentes is from Latin (although it's incorrect, but it sounded better that way), meaning closed or shut mind, which hopefully rings a bell as "hardheaded"._

Insignio means "I mark ." You say the name of the person or object you want to point out and only you can see it.

What do you think?


End file.
